


Under Attack

by spikesgirl58



Series: ABBA/Foothills [78]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chef delights his crew with an urban legend.  It's just he might have convinced himself that it's all too real.  Written for 2013 MFU Halloween Challenge</p><p>Warning - Urban legend deals with the death of a dog</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Attack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yelizaveta](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Yelizaveta).



 

Napoleon took a step back from the wall and looked critically at his painting.   It was of a nightscape.  The sky was shrouded with dark clouds while a bolt of lightning struggled to capture a full moon with its skeletal fingers.  A tumbled down fence completed the scene while pumpkin balanced precariously.  All in all, the epitome of a Halloween scene.

 

A sound drew his attention and he glanced over his shoulder at his partner.

 

“Illya, what do you think?”

 

“Very spooky.  The kids are going to love it.”  Illya set down the tray he’d been carrying.  Three dozen cupcakes were lined up.  Some were frosted white, oozing red where small candy knives plunged into them.  Others had eyeballs looking back while others were decorated with realistic looking earthworms crawling out of them.

 

“That’s a little gruesome for a kid’s Halloween party, isn’t it, _Amante?”_ Napoleon winced at the sight.

 

“Those are for the older kids.”  Matt carried a tray in and set it beside Illya’s.  These were frosted with orange with smiling spiders and cute ghosts.  “These are for the _bambinis_.”

 

A man entered, a large sack of apples over his shoulder.  “Where do you want these, Chef?”

 

“Thanks, Joseph.  Which ones are they?”

 

“The Pippins.”  Joseph ran a local orchard and always provided apples for the local Jackson Halloween party.  “I have to Macs for the apple bobbing in the truck.”

 

“Great.  Those go in the kitchen.  Just toss them into the back of my truck.  Matt will show you the way.”

 

“This Halloween party is a great idea.”  Napoleon looked around the grange hall, decorated with corn stalks, pumpkins and other trappings of the day.  “Yours?”

 

“No, they have been having these for a long time.  With everyone so spread out, it is just safer to bring the kids here for trick or treating than having the walk the roads.”

 

“It’s vastly safer given these roads.” Foothills roads were famous for their sudden hairpin turns and blind spots.  It had taken Napoleon months to feel comfortable driving some of the local roads.

 

“The pumpkins look great, Mr. S.”  Rocky entered, carrying a metal wash tub down, Matt was on his heels.  “Where do we want to apple dunking station set up?”

 

“Towards the back on the plastic.”  Illya grinned at Napoleon.  “One year we did it on stage and local council nearly had my head with the water damage to the stage.  Thankfully, it was just plywood and we replaced the damaged sheets.  I never made that mistake again.”

 

“Experience is a great teacher.”

 

“Sometimes,” Illya murmured.  He smiled wickedly and looked at his coworkers.  “How about we take a break and I’ll tell you a little story about experience.”

 

Instantly Matt, Rocky, Joseph, Napoleon, and a half dozen other helpers were gathered around and waiting expectantly.  Illya flipped the tub over, sat and cleared his throat.

 

“Once, there was a young girl named Lisa was often left alone at home because her parents worked late.  They bought her a dog to protect her and keep her company. One night Lisa was awakened by a constant dripping sound. She got up and went to the kitchen to turn off the tap properly. As she was getting back into the bed she stuck her hand under the bed and the dog licked it reassuringly.

 

The dripping sound continued, so she went to the bathroom and turned off the tap properly in there, too. She went back to her bedroom and again stuck her hand under the bed, and again the dog licked it. But the dripping continued, so she went outside and turned off the taps out there. She came back to bed, stuck her hand under it, and the dog licked it again.

 

Still the dripping continued, _drip_ , _drip_ , _drip_. This time she listened and located the source of the dripping — it was coming from her closet. She opened the cupboard door, and there was her dog hanging upside down with its neck cut, and written on the inside of the cupboard door was, "HUMANS CAN LICK TOO!!!"  *”

 

Matt gasped and buried his head into Rocky’s shoulder.  “The poor dog.”

 

“I think you are supposed to identify with Lisa, Matthew,” Illya said. 

 

“Thanks, Chef, he’s going to be up all night now.”  Rocky patted Matt’s back soothingly.  “It’s just a story, Mattie.”

 

Illya chucked and got up from the tub.  “I’m going back to the restaurant and get things going for tonight.”

 

“Do you need help, Chef?” Rocky was still soothing Matt.

 

“No, Winston is there and he can give me a hand.”

 

“We’re going to lose business being closed tonight.”

 

“But we will gain it back in community support.  We may lose some many tonight, but it’s better that we be here, a visible presence, than not.  When the tourists go, the locals remain and they remember who supports them and their families.”

 

Illya grabbed his jacket and headed out to the truck.  The day was drawing to a close and dusk was coming on.  He would have to be fast if he was going to get everything back here in time.

 

He wasn’t thinking about much of anything as he drove to the restaurant.  This time of year always made him a little melancholy although it was easier with Napoleon back in his life.  He pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and frowned…

 

Illya parked close to the kitchen entrance for his restaurant and climbed out.  The wind suddenly came up and made the leaves at his feet dance. Shivering, Illya pulled up the collar of his jacket and walked to the kitchen door.

 

What he was expecting was to see a kitchen in the last minute mad prep for the evening’s party.  There was a mess on just about every available flat surface, but the kitchen was empty.

 

“Hello?”  By his reckoning, there should have been at least five people in kitchen.  There was no one and then he heard it, _drip drip, drip_.  Without meaning to, the details of his story came back to him.  “Nonsense.”

 

He walked to the wash up sink, but the taps were both off.  He checked the dish machine.  It too was quiet.  Yet the _drip, drip, drip_ continued.

 

He walked back towards his office and the noise grew.  It seemed to be coming from the stock room.  As far as he knew, there was nothing back there that could be leaking.

 

He pushed the door, but it refuse to open.  That was odd.  As far as Illya knew, there was only one way to lock the door and that was with a key that hung on the cork board over his desk.   He would unlock it when they were working, but then lock it back up, just to be careful.  The last thing Illya wanted was for some of his product to go missing.

 

Signing, Illya placed his ear against the door and could hear a steady dripping from the other side.  He didn’t have a clue what was making a noise and he refused to entertain the details of his earlier tale of horror.

 

Taking off his jacket, Illya walked to his office and reached for the key.  He fumbled it and it fell between his desk and the wall.  Cursing, he tossed his jacket onto his desk and pulled up his sleeve.

 

Gingerly, not thinking of the spiders that might well be living back there, Illya slipped his arm in between the wall and the desk to feel for the key.

 

Something licked his fingers.

 

With a cry just this side of a scream, Illya jumped back, slammed into his chair and falling backwards.  For a brief second, he seemed to hover in space, then he went back, his head connected with the file cabinet and he knew no more.

 

                                                            ****

 

Napoleon quietly opened the bedroom door.  The figure on the bed looked towards him and Napoleon smiled, asking softly.  “How are you feeling?”

 

“You mean beside like an idiot?”  Illya was propped up against a pile of pillows, his head bandaged.  One eye was already starting to color and his face looked puffy.

 

“You’re lucky you weren't killed.  If that can had fallen any harder, we’d be playing taps for you.”

 

“I think you still could.”  Illya sighed.  “How is the puppy?  Is he okay?”

 

“She is fine and the last thing I heard, Rocky and Matt were taking her home.  Winston is still apologizing for the mess in the storeroom.  When they found out she’d knocked over all that stuff, they put her in your office for safe keeping and ran to the store for replacements.  They weren’t expecting you back so soon.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Rocky is calling her _Chiquitita.”_

“After an ABBA song, why am I not surprised?”

 

Napoleon placed the tray he was carrying down on the night stand and held out a small white pill and a glass of water to Illya.  “Go on.  You don’t have to be brave with me.”

 

Illya took the pill and then the glass.  “I still feel like a fool.  I knew that story was an urban myth and yet I let it spook me.”

 

“Lean forward for me,” Napoleon said.  Illya did as he asked and Napoleon climbed in behind him and settled Illya against him.  “You did accomplish something, though,”

 

“What’s that?”  Illya squirmed a little until he was comfortable and Napoleon’s arms around his waist was a reassuringly familiar pressure.

 

“You disproved one of the oldest urban myths around.”

 

“Which is?”  Illya yawned in spite of himself.

 

“You are human, after all.”

 

Illya merely smiled, closed his eyes and shrouded within a cocoon of love, drifted off to sleep, knowing that he was safe, happy and loved.

 

 

 

 

(*http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/horrors/tp/top10scariest.htm)

 

 


End file.
